Hope
by Vampellzy
Summary: Meg Giri helps the phantom to escape the opera house as he mourns the loss of his beloved Christine.
1. Chapter 1

Meg Giri strode, confidently out of the water into the home of the mysterious and elusive phantom, she had grown up with stories of her mother's encounter with a young boy with a hidden face, a genius or a ghost who lived in the opera house. She had thought she had seen him once or twice. Now she entered the retreat with some trepidation, the police at her back. It was beautiful, she had sought out this place against her mother's wishes. Her gaze first fell on a caricature of a monkey in sultans robes, his hands attached to miniature cymbals atop a jewellery box. Passing this by, her eyes were drawn away from the splendour to a simple white moulded piece of mask. So this was the mask, which she now held in her hand, glancing back at the police she concealed it from them, moving away towards a row of mirrors, all smashed. Curious, she approached them, finding a goblet amidst the broken glass. As she bent down to retrieve the object, she glimpsed a dark gap in what she thought had been merely drapes. It appeared that there was a curtain concealing one of the dark passages that riddled the opera house. Glancing about, she saw that the police officers were engaged with searching through the remains of the phantom's belongings. Ducking quickly under the curtain and replacing it behind her, she plunged into the darkness. Taking a few hesitant steps, she waited as her eyes attempted to adjust to the absence. She reached out with the tips of her fingers, feeling for the wall, the mask still clutched to her side.

She walked forward, knowing what she sought. She had only managed to make a short journey into the darkness before she came across a dark shape slumped across her path. It was a man and he had covered his face with his hands. He didn't appear to have noticed her presence, however upon attempting look more closely, he seized her hand.

"It isn't safe here, you should return to the search."

"Aren't you afraid that I'll fetch the officers? You are him, the Phantom?"

"Indeed and no I do not care. All I ever wanted was to be left in peace, but the mob is always inevitable."

She smiled sadly and remembered the mask in her hand.

"Do you... I found this." She pressed it into his empty palms.

"Why are you here?" She took a deep breath.

"I've come to help you escape, for my mother's sake."

"Nothing matters now. I don't think I can muster the strength to run again." He sighed. "Aren't you afraid that I'll kill you." Meg drew a deep breath.

"I don't think that it would benefit you to kill me. And besides you know that I am Christine's friend. I don't think you could do anything to hurt her."

"You presume much."

"I think I presume just the right amount." They both looked back the way she had come, voices travelled the length if the small corridor. "I'll return later. It seems you are in danger of discovery." He did not reply to her assurance. She wondered what had occurred to make the man she had heard so much of, so despondent. It must have been an awful blow, perhaps it had had something to do with Christine and The Viscount patron whom she had seen fleeing the building as she ventured into the bowels of the opera house at the head of the police officer company.

She passed under the cloth and out into the bright searchlights of the men as they searched for their mark. The man, who appeared to be superior to the others in rank, approached.

"What did you find mademoiselle?"In response to the question, she smiled nonchalantly.

"Nothing but dust and cobwebs. It is cul de sac, it seems rather pointless to hide an entrance to nowhere." She hoped that she exuded the correct combination of simplicity and truth. After a moment he nodded and motioned for his men to search in the other direction. Meg sighed, she wasn't entirely sure why she felt a need to help this poor creature other than she hated the idea of a man so great, hunted down in such a manner. She made a show of searching with the rest, but all the while she was wondering how she could be true to her word and whether her help would even be desired.


	2. Chapter 2

She waited at the entrance which her mother had shown her would lead to a passage that would eventually take her to a sheltered spot just outside the opera house. She held two carpet bags, one in each hand. She would meet with her mother at a later date when she had done what she could for the phantom. When it appeared that he would not show, she began to wonder why she felt the need to help him, why she had fought her mother for this. And all for a man she did not know. All she knew was the sympathy that she felt for his plight and the strong desire to be of help. Then perhaps her life would mean something. She would be more than one fo many poorly – payed dancers in an opera house where decadence and intrigue was law. She recognised the talent and mastery of the phantom and wished only to help. A slight noise broke her musing and she flicked her eyes up to see him step, no melt out of the shadows. He brought only one large sack with him. She would later find that other than things which were of sentimental value, he had only brought his clothes, his music and rather a large amount of money. She smiled nervously at him her gaze sweeping over the mask, the wig, his coat, shirt, waistcoat, breeches and long boots and finally his rapier resting in its sheath against his hip. He nodded politely.

"What is it exactly that you plan to do?" She gulped loudly.

"Well, I though we would take the pipe next to …"

"I can get us out, I simply meant, what exactly did you plan to do once we are out of this." He indicated to his home of the past, whatever amount of years.

"My mother will meet me once I have found somewhere to stay." 

"And how pray, exactly do you intend to do this?" Good question.

"Trust to providence?" She winced at how naive he must sound. "What did you do before you were taken to the circus?" A hint of emotion rippled across the part of his face that was visible.

"You know my story then? Well I can't expect her to have hid it from you it was as much her story as mine that night." She wasn't quite sure how to answer. Meg nodded.

"Perhaps if you will lead us to the place my mother led you into before, then we could guage the situation. My mother will distract the guard posted near it and we can escape behind ale house into the back streets." She smiled encouragingly. He sighed.

Twenty minutes later found them near the entrance her mother had described, poised to leave. The gendarmes were not obvious but she knew the were there. No sign of her mother, perhaps she had been detained. Meg Giri stepped out onto the dirty, rain sodden cobbles. The phantom did not stop her. He had not stepped eight yards when a young man in uniform barred her way.

"Where did you come from Mademoiselle?" She gave her most coquettish smile. She was barely able to reply before the phantom seemed to melt from the shadows and grasped the man by his neck.

"Don't..." The phantom twisted and the man fell to the floor. "You've killed him" She dropped next to him. She checked his pulse. In an opera house populated with addicts of one kind or another, she had learned to tell the difference between unconsciousness and those who could not be saved. The phantom walked away without a word. Meg Giri followed in silence. "I'm sorry, I thought you meant to kill him."

"I did."

"Why did you not?" 

"You asked me not to." She was silent as she thought through his answer.

"Thank You."

As they climbed the hill out of the city, dawn was upon them and wordlessly, they stepped off the clear path in favour of the thin pine forests. They would provide some form of cover and protection from encountering other travellers even so early in the morning. The warmth of the morning signified a hot day. As they grew farther and farther from the city that ad always been her home, she grew more and more uneasy. And ever so unsure of whether she knew exactly what she was doign.

She had predicted the day's heat well; sun beat down upon them and made sweat rise But as he showed no sign of needing to stop, neither did she. It was indeed imperative to remove themselves as far away from Paris as possible. What they could do beyond that she had not really even considered.

As midday hit and the sun became unbearable, they stumbled upon an empty barn which appeared to be no where near the farm to which it belonged. Meg wandered into the dry building. She jumped back. A dog that seemed to have claimed this bit of turf for his own bedding darted forward, a warning growl rising from his snout. Meg froze. The phantom did not pause however, but continued into the barn, directly up to the dog and simply locked his gaze with the animal. After a matter of minutes the dog dropped to its feet and rolled over in a clear sign of submission. The phantom knelt by the dog and rubbed its stomach with his gloved hand. There was a look of slight tenderness on the face of the phantom that she thought looked entirely out of place.

"Animals have no prejudice like humans do. Come, make yourself known to her." Meg hung back, fearing the beast's teeth.

"Will she bite?" 

"She might if you do not take advantage of her submission, now." Meg approached with caution and knelt by his side. She tentatively reached out a hand to stroke the dog. When there was no retribution, she smiled at the creature and her tail began to wag. She was really beautiful. A blue merl sheep dog. She had the look of a wolf. Perhaps, this was why she found herself discarded by the family. Looking closer, Meg saw that she was not a dog yet but a near – full grown pup. She could see a note of empathy between the phantom and the dog. Two of society's castaways. She had to admit she felt a little left out. Not that she had ever been particularly included in the goings on at the opera house. Her mother had intimidated the other girls until she had brought Christine home with her one night.

"Do you think that we should move along?" 

"If you wish it."

"I meant, do you think it would be prudent?"

"I think that we have put enough distance between us and the gendarmes for now."

"But the young man, he will have been discovered."

"He did not see me. He will most likely report an unidentified attacker. I doubt very much that he will remember a blonde girl who appeared briefly before he lost consciousness."

"But..."

"I do not know about you mademoiselle but I am not often up past dawn." He eyed the hayloft with distaste. "Though I doubt there is much rest to be acquired here. Though I have in fact experienced worse." Meg Giri said nothing but only wandered past them into the barn.

"You don't think we will be discovered."

"We can rely on our new friend here to notify us." Without another word he climbed the ladder up into the loft with surprising agility for a man who had on such a heavy cloak and disappeared over the top. The dog whined up at him and then looked to Meg before slumping down at the base of the ladder. Meg, not feeling particularly tired, moved to sit on a bale of straw that lay invitingly by the door. She decided that she might keep watch for a time.


	3. Chapter 3

She climbed the ladder while the girl pup paced anxiously below. She would have brought her up with her if a certain amount of fear hadn't lingered from the animal's initial greeting. Meg climbed to the top and for a moment saw no one there. She made her way around a particularly large pile of hay to see the phantom in only his shirt and breeches. The rest of his heavy clothing lay thrown from him. The heat in the barn was quite stifling up there. One arm was flung out over his eyes. He had neglected to take of his mask. She wondered if this was something he usually did or was wholly for her benefit, should she come to wake him. She tried speaking.

"We should be moving on. We are still too close to Paris for my liking. We should leave soon." She kneeled by his side when he gave no response. Wary of a man capable of murder and of moving about in an opera house soundlessly, as quickly as a cat. But he did not respond, even when she shook him by the shoulder. Gently, she removed his arm and started when she felt how hot he was through the cloth. She moved her hand to his forehead. She was immediately worried. He was hot to the touch. She shook him again but he didn't respond. It was around about this point that she began to panic. The dog began to bark. The police could easily find them there. There were far too close to the outskirts of Paris not to mention the likelihood of the farmer needing hay. She found herself frozen with worry and indecision . She knew very little about medicine. All she knew was what she had learned, in the opera house. She knew a few basic things when the girls had been sick. She could also tell when someone looked as if they had no will to fight whatever malady that had them in its clutches. She knew enough to combat a fever but she wasn't sure any of her efforts would work if he truly didn't wish to live any more. She searched out a wooden bucket that had no holes and stepped outside. She had been sure when they came there that she had heard a stream nearby. She held still and sure enough the polite gurgle of a small beck met her ears. She quickly set off toward it. IT was a very small stream and she found she had to lay the bucket on its side to catch any water.

The dog followed quietly and earnestly behind, unsure. When she returned, she was glad that the bucket was not full, as she ascended the ladder, one handed. She set the bucket down beside the phantom and searched among her things for her handkerchief. She found it in her bundle and dipped it into the water. As she wrung it out the water droplets glided down her forearms and soaked into her sleeves. She rolled them back before turning her attention entirely to the phantom. She dabbed at his forehead before laying the cool cloth on his forehead. She then took a tin mug from her bag and scooped out a little water. It was quite possible that the water was not entirely clean but it was not likely to be beyond consumption. Still, she swallowed a few drops, waiting until she was sure it would not make him worse before gently removing his arm and attempting to get him to drink. His arm was heavy and fell across her lap.

Whatever held him just inches from consciousness, held him tight. He only briefly surfaced to swallow the water she gave him before sliding back into the grip of it. She settled herself down to a long wait. If the fever did not break then she would have to fetch help. She did not want to fetch help. She made do with the small amount of food she had been able to bring with them, dropping a little down for the dog that ate it with an enthusiasm that made it clear she had not eaten in some time.

Meg watched the phantom. She let her eyes slide across to the bag he had brought .He had not moved in the time she had been there. She still did not trust that his eerie extra sense would not know what she was about/tryingtodo. Still, she inched around him and reached for the bag but her had stilled when heard the dog's low growl before she began to bark. It soon became apparent that she was barking at the approach of two men. She stilled, not allowing herself to breath. Footsteps came into the barn.

"Shut your mouth." There was a snarl and then a yelp. Meg still did not let herself make a sound.

"How many times must I tell you to close the barn door?"

"The animal probably ran away from La Pont's farm, his bitch has had pups in the last month."

"Looks like a runt."

"Probably best to kill it. I've no room for such a small dog." There was a whimper from the dog. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Don't you touch her." Meg crawled over to the top of the ladder to see the two men reaching for the dog who was pressed against the ladder, afraid and trying to make herself small. Now that she had revealed herself the best she could do was find a weapon. She rooted around in the straw and her hand fell on the phantom's sword. She had not noticed it under his heavy cloak. She pulled it out, drawing it from tis scabbard. It was heavy but not unmanageable. She knew very little of swordplay but at worst it was something sharp to fend them off with. She reappeared above them.

The two men seemed rather surprised at the sight. The older one stepped forward, ignoring her sword.

"Mademoiselle, you are in my barn. Do not presume to give me orders. If I say that the dog will be killed, it will."

"It is not your dog."

"Is it yours?"

"She is."

"Then would you mind telling me what you are doing here with your dog?" She opted for the truth.

"I needed shelter."

"I am not inn the business of charitable acts. You'll have to find somewhere else to lay your head." She thought as quickly as she was able.

"I would, gladly but I have a friend who cannot be moved. Can't you spare your hayloft for a night at least?"

"Mademoiselle. Exactly how many people do you have up there with you?"

"No more than I have said. Please, my friend has fallen sick on the road. He may die if he is moved." Sly looks passed between the two men.

"This wouldn't be your husband by any chance."

"No." She realised that she should have lied. Travelling with a man she was not wed to would make them assume certain things about her character. She recognised the looks they gave her as the same the men would give the ballerinas in the Opera house, assuming them all to be whores that would give their favours for a bottle of whisky. Most of them where. One of the men approached.

"And what would you pay me with, my beauty, if I were to let your sick friend bide here for a while." She raised her sword.

"I have money but not much." His leer slipped off his face. She watched as the mind behind the face became calculating instead of simply animal.

"How much?"

"Some Francs, not much." She lied. She had quite a lot more than she had expected when she retrieved what she had been saving from behind a brick in her room. The man sighed, taking one look at the sword in her hands.

"I am not a cruel man. Give me what you have and you may stay here until your companion can move on. Meg pulled a few coins from her purse and tossed them down. He caught them and counted. "I shall be back to make sure you have left in two days." His friend/son seemed to want to say something but he was ushered from the barn. Meg turned around and descended, trying to still her beating heart that threatened to escape her chest. She caught up the dog, not wishing to leave her where she could be vulnerable. The girl was shivering and allowed herself to be gathered up. Meg brought her up and immediately let her go. The little dog licked her hand before approaching the phantom. She slumped down in the hay beside him, keeping watch.

Meg, herself settled down to watch for any change in the phantom. She would get no sleep that night. She knew something about fevers. It would get worse before it got better. If he survived the night then he would live. The fever would have to break before then or would leave with his life.

It was approaching midnight before anything of importance happened. Meg had drifted off into a sort of daze. She was looking away from the phantom when she heard him speak. He had been intermittently calling out or moaning in pain but nothing coherent.

"Christine?" The single word, the name was clear and biting. He called out to her as if it were here sitting by his side and not in Italy, having abandoned him to the police.

"What?" He reached out for something she could not be sure of but when his hand sought out and found her hand, she did not pull it from his grasp.

"I thought you had left me, gone far away where I can't reach you." Meg pondered over whether she should correct him, tell him that he was indeed right and that the hand he held belonged to a choir girl he had most likely thought as anything more than Madame Giri's daughter.

"I am here, monsieur."

"I'm glad. You have come to see me die, then. I knew you would. Your voice had brought me such happiness and such pain. I should like to hear it once more." Meg began to pull her hand away.

"I can't do that."

"But you must. Don't leave me. Christine." He tightened his grip on her small hand. She saw an errant tear slip down from underneath the mask. His fevered eyes questing for a face that wasn't present. "Christine." The word was filled with such longing. She couldn't bear it. She leaned forward and pressed her lips down onto his in a kiss that she hoped would silence him and quiet his pain. And it seemed to. His lips were hot and rough, the fever having made them dry. A thrill went through her. She had not thought of what she was doing. She had not expected the first kiss she experienced to be the rope sent to a drowning man. A drowning man who was also a killer and genius. He was quiet after that.

When the morning came, Meg who had slipped into a light and restful sleep, she woke to find the puppy on her chest and a patient who was alive if unconscious. She raised herself up onto her arm and watched him for a while. He was sleeping quietly. She reached out and felt at his temple. His forehead was warm but no longer hot to the touch. She relaxed a little. He was not better but the risk of death had been avoided for the present.


End file.
